This Madness Called Love
by Sweet Little Mary Sue
Summary: It was a foolish thing to go wandering about a strange place all by your lonesome. It was even worse to do so when night had fallen, and a torrential rain was pouring down all around you, but Mariam Bennett had never meant for any of those things to happen...Heathcliff/OC.
1. Chapter One

This Madness Called Love

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: It was a foolish thing to go wandering about a strange place all by your lonesome. It was even worse to do so when night had fallen, and a torrential rain was pouring down all around you, but Mariam Bennett had never meant for any of those things to happen. Yes, she had gone out walking, even though she was in a place that was unknown to her, but she hadn't intended to get lost, nor had she meant to wander about in the dark, and she certainly hadn't planned on rushing about frantically through a furious thunderstorm, but all of these things were the least of her worries, after her path crossed that of a man who fascinated her, at the same time that he frightened her out of her wits.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story that is familiar to you, because those words and ideas and characters belong to Emily Brontë. The only things that I can claim as my own are my OC, Mariam Bennett, and any and all that she brings with her from my imagination. The title for this story is taken from a quote by Pedro Calderon de la Barca, who says that "When love is not madness, it is not love."

Author's Note: I know that I am wading out into dangerous waters with this story, because there are bound to be readers who are diehard Heathcliff and Catherine fans and they might be inclined to take offense at the notion that I would dare to put anyone else with Heathcliff…but I'm going to do so anyway. I'm also going to tone down Heathcliff's tendencies for cruelty, because that sort of thing just isn't my cup of tea. Do I intend to make him a big softy? No, but he will be softened somewhat, so if this is a notion that doesn't appeal to you at all, then please, for both our sakes, **don't read any further! **And for those of you who are unfamiliar with my obsession with Tom Hardy, he is my Heathcliff in this story, and I was definitely, ahem, _inspired_, by his performance in the 2009 PBS rendition of _Wuthering Heights_, which I highly recommend, to all of those who haven't seen it. The timeline in this story begins almost ten years after Catherine's death, and she and Heathcliff were never lovers. Their relationship was that of siblings who were the best of friends instead, and losing her nearly destroyed him.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye: This work of fanfiction is rated **M** for violence, mild to moderate cursing, and eventual citrus smuttiness, both limes and lemons.

Chapter One

We're All A Little Lost, Aren't We?

Mariam's POV

I really ought to have known better than to wander outside so late in the day, when the skies were overcast and hinted that there was a very good chance that a storm would develop, but none of that mattered to me. I was very fond of my Uncle Phillip, and I was very, _very_ fond of my Aunt Eugenia, but their daughter, Anne, was another matter altogether. She was two years younger than me, but she'd already been married twice, both times to men who'd had one foot planted firmly in the grave, while the other one dangled precariously on the edge of said tomb, and she never missed a chance to make one scathing comment after another about my own "difficulties" and "failures" where matrimony was concerned.

It was one of the aspects of life as a woman that I despised the most, this belief that our worth lay in our familial connections, the amount of our dowry, and our expeditiousness in finding a suitable spouse. What about our character, our intelligence and our desire to love and be loved? Why didn't any of those things, the ones that were truly important, matter to the members of society who held the power to make us or break us? Didn't they realize how shallow and insubstantial the qualities and status that meant so much to them were? That being said, did they even care, or were they simply content to go along with the notion that a woman held no value at all, save for her position in the _ton_, the fee that one received for marrying her, and how many Seasons she required to obtain a husband?

I knew that I was a spinster, it was an unpleasant fact that I accepted, because I refused to be dishonest about anything, especially about myself, but that didn't mean that I had to like it, did it? I had always dreamed of marrying, of having a home of my own, one that I filled with children who would love me and be equally adored, but I'd never found the man who was meant to be my mate. My parents, God bless them, had provided me with seven Seasons, an embarrassing number, to be sure, and I had received five proposals with the first, four with the second, two with the third, and one with the fourth, but none after that. My Papa could have made me marry, it would have been within his power to do so, but he genuinely loved me, as did my Mama, and neither of them had the heart to sacrifice me for the sake of measuring up to the expectations of the influential members of society.

Was I really asking for too much with my desire to find a mate who was the other half of me, who loved me with no conditions attached, who I would be _in_ love with? I knew that my parents hadn't shared that bond with one another when they first married, it was something that had developed and grown over time, but what if I was to vow to love, to honor and to obey a man who was virtually a stranger, only to discover, much too late, that he was someone that I could never even like, let alone love?

I stumbled along, luxuriating in the fleeting pleasure of uttering a thoroughly unladylike curse every now and then at the cotton grass that insisted on snagging the hem of my dress with every step that I took. I suppose that I ought to have been grateful for the fact that I'd chosen my blue dress today, as opposed to a light colored one, which would have undoubtedly been rendered transparent by the rain, but I found that it was difficult to feel anything that even remotely resembled thankfulness, given that I hadn't grabbed a coat, or even a shawl, on my way out onto the moors, and was therefore gripped from head-to-toe with a bone rattling case of the shivers and the quivers.

I suppose that it didn't matter that I was a woman who had a lot of love to give to the right man, because what marriage minded gentleman would ever look twice at a spinster of twenty-six? They would not care that I had a good sense of humor, and they wouldn't be concerned with whether or not I had a mind of my own, because such things were frowned upon in a female. My respectable family held no appeal for any of them, nor did my generous dowry, and it was doubtful that my intelligence would impress them either…though, I suppose that my stroll in the growing darkness and the rain might detract somewhat from the belief that I was all that bright, wouldn't it?

Had I been given to histrionics, like my cousin, Anne, I would have taken a seat upon a rock and given myself over to the desire to cry and indulge in a fair dose of self-pity, but I personally loathed that sort of behavior. Oh, I had my moments when I wept, and I had felt sorry for myself on more than one occasion, but neither of these actions were going to save me now, were they? I reasoned that the best course for me to take was to keep walking until I found my way back, it was just unfortunate that I didn't carry a compass on my person, wasn't it?

Heavens, if I didn't know better I would have sworn that the earth was rumbling beneath my feet, but that didn't make sense, did it? Perhaps I was disorientated by the constant showering of ice-cold rain, it might have been that my nerves were getting the best of me, there were several things that could have contributed to my rattled state of mind and equally shaken senses, but I would have sworn that I felt the ground move beneath my feet.

I knew that I was hallucinating, there was no other explanation for what I was feeling…well, that is, there was no other reason, except for the large horse that was bearing down upon me, as if it meant to stomp me into the ground. It was difficult to discern much of the steed, beyond its size and speed, and it was impossible to detect any details at all about the rider, aside from the fact that they seemed to move as one with the animal who was about to trample me. I prepared myself, as best as I could, for the impact, when I ought to have been running, or, at the very least, moving aside, which is what an intelligent person would have done, that is, what they would have done if their limbs weren't frozen from the relentless and bitter rainfall, that is.

The monstrous animal came to a stop right in front of me and reared onto its hind legs, its front hooves pawing at the air, and I found that I wanted to scream for some reason, something that I normally wouldn't have even considered, but thankfully I was too cold to give an embarrassingly loud voice to my fear. It seemed that this creature, and its master, had emerged from the depths of Hell to destroy me, but then it occurred to me that perhaps a brave and gallant knight had come to my rescue instead, which was odd, not to mention maddening, because I wasn't one who was given to that sort of romanticized nonsense.

"What the devil are you doing, woman?" the rider roared, his thunderous voice carrying easily, despite the falling rain and neighing horse. "Have you taken leave of your senses, to be traipsing about in a storm, or are you simply soft in the head?"

Hmm…so much for the brave and gallant knight, it seemed that my savior had been summoned from the bowels of Hades after all…how fortunate for me, wouldn't you agree?

Heathcliff's POV

I was eager to get home, to sit in front of the roaring fire and chase the chill from my bones, the one that stiffened my fingers and made me feel numb all over, in spite of the fact that I'd donned my greatcoat for the journey home. Bastion seemed to sense my urgency and he moved along at a strong and steady clip, and I lowered myself, and lay close to his neck, running one hand along his mane, and taking solace and comfort from the heat of his flesh.

If I was to be completely honest, especially with myself, I would admit that I would have been content to return home and to never leave again. It was the one place where I felt comfortable, the one place where I was content, and I was loathe to leave it. The only downside was the loneliness that had taken hold of me after Catherine had left me behind, a visceral pain and despondency that had made me seriously consider taking my own life, because what was the point of trying to thrive, when part of my soul was gone? The despair had lessened somewhat, with every year that had passed, but it was still there, a dark blot, which threatened to overtake me from time to time.

Unfortunately, I had to leave my sanctuary every now and then, for business purposes and to acquire the supplies necessary for survival, hence my trip home, through the pounding, freezing rain. It was folly to be traveling in this sort of weather, at this hour, but Bastion had thrown a shoe while I was in town, and the unplanned trip to the blacksmith had put me behind schedule, and I was obliged to urge my mount a bit more enthusiastically than I normally would have done. We were drawing near, and didn't have much further to go, when I saw something in the distance, a shape that seemed to belong to a person, but that couldn't be, could it? What sort of fool would go out walking in the rain? Didn't they know any better than to be out for a stroll when it was raining cats and dogs?

I urged Bastion along a little faster with a nudge from my heels to his ribcage, and he took that as encouragement to move into a full-blown gallop, one that sent us thundering across the moor, and I strained to see through the torrential rain, so that we wouldn't run down the hapless wanderer. It was a given that they were obviously out of their senses, but that was no cause for me to trample them, was it? I wasn't accustomed to acting as a savior to anyone, but I had to try, if for no other reason than to tell them what I thought of their actions.

I'd assumed that the fool in question was a man, but as I got closer I saw that the shape of the person in question was more feminine in appearance. It also seemed that she was traipsing about in her dress, with no sign of a coat or a shawl, nothing at all, save for a paltry dress, to shield her from the elements, and what had been mere annoyance swelled into a furiously irrational anger. I couldn't say for certain what it was that inspired that sort of response from me, but I decided that she needed to be scared, if she wasn't already, and I was just what she needed to achieve that emotion.

I didn't pull on Bastion's reins until we had almost reached her, because I could see that she was watching my approach, and I imagined that she was scared, though she didn't attempt to flee. I didn't intend for him to rear onto his hind legs and paw the air right over her head, but I didn't chasten him for doing so, because I wanted her to know the full measure of her foolishness. Perhaps she didn't have anyone else about to tell her what was right and what was wrong, what was wise and what was imprudent, and I was happy to educate her, whether she wanted me to or not.

"What the devil are you doing, woman?" I bellowed, trusting that my voice would carry easily enough, in spite of the torrent of rain and Bastion's insistence on braying at her. "Have you taken leave of your senses, to be traipsing about in a storm, or are you simply soft in the head?"

I suppose that my questions weren't the sort that a lady would expect from a gentleman upon their first meeting, but we weren't subjected to the niceties of society, not here, on the moors, with the tempest raging all around us, and while it was likely that she was a lady, I wasn't exactly a gentleman. That was why I moved Bastion, so that he was standing beside her, and bent low in the saddle, scooping her up and onto my lap without asking whether or not I ought to, or bothering to consider how my actions might affect her.

She felt like she was made of ice, and she was so cold that all she could do was tremble, though I had a good notion that she would have liked nothing more than to rail at me and let me know what she thought of my behavior. I knew that this had to have been shocking to her, she was probably accustomed to men who spoke prettily and humored her and flattered her, but that wasn't the sort of treatment that she needed at that moment. Sweet words and flowery manners weren't going to do a damned thing to save her, and even if they had been capable of helping her, I wasn't the sort of man who demonstrated that sort of behavior, not even when I was surrounded by the _ton_.

It occurred to me that there wasn't much that was off-limits at that point, given that she was already in a state of shock, so I decided to throw all caution to the wind and opened my greatcoat, shivering at the shocking cold that rushed inside to run along my chest, and enveloped her in its depths. Her frozen body was a shock to my system, but I ignored it and tried to close the coat around her, shaking my head in disbelief when she fought against my attempt to help her.

"Blast it, woman, I'm not trying to molest you!" I growled at her, moving my arms more forcefully, until I'd managed to pull my coat tight around her body, cocooning both of us in a burrow of wool, which I hoped would receive adequate heat from my body, so as to keep us both warm. "It's too damned cold out here for those sorts of to-dos, and even if it weren't, it's not my style to frolic with a woman that I just met on horseback, riding furiously across the moors, so calm yourself and let me help you."

She grew still and watched me for a moment, raising her face out of the depths of my greatcoat, and I was seized once more with the notion that she was keen to tell me exactly what she thought of me, opinions which were bound to be uncomplimentary, at best, but she didn't say a word. She snuggled close to me instead, and hesitated, for just a moment, before she raised her hand and placed it on my chest, over my heart, and laid her cheek against the other side, exhaling a sigh that raised a reaction on my flesh that had nothing at all to do with the cold.

Oh, hell…this was bad. I told myself that I was reacting to her because she was cuddled close to me, a soft and curvaceous, not to mention faceless, woman who was clinging to my body. I tried to convince myself that I was simply hungry for intimate contact with a woman, having gone so long without, but I knew that I was lying to myself. I knew, instinctively, that everything had just changed, that my life would never be the same again, and I didn't like it, not one damned bit.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Heathcliff's POV

"'Of things unseen how canst thou deem aright, then answered the righteous Arthegal, sith thou misdeem'st so much of things in sight?'….."

She looked quite lovely, with the flames of the fire illuminating her face here and there, while the rest was hidden in shadows. I hadn't been able to fill my eyes with any detail of her looks out on the moors, but I'd seen a good deal of her after I got her indoors, more than she would have liked me to, I would imagine. I justified my actions as those that were warranted, and assured myself that I'd had no other alternative but to remove her clothing once I got her inside, in front of a roaring fire, and all that I could hope was that she would see the wisdom of my actions, rather than imagining that they had been inspired by any sort of perversion on my part. Of course, I had to admit, I was affected by what I saw, what I tried, and failed, not to see, and I couldn't help but think of those details as I sat in front of the fire, just steps away from the bed where she slumbered, reading aloud from _Faerie Queene_, of all things, in the hope that it would drive the illicit images from my mind.

"'What though the Sea with Waves continual do eat the Earth, it is no more at all; ne is the Earth the less, or loseth ought:'….."

She shifted in her sleep and sighed, a quiet, almost happy noise that made me look up from my reading, so that I could watch her, in the hope, the ridiculous anticipation that filled me, for some inexplicable reason, that she would make the same sound again, but she didn't. Her face was turned completely toward the fire now, there was nothing hiding in the darkness, and I studied her carefully, telling myself that I was doing so in the hope that I might recognize her, even though I knew, deep down inside, that there was more to my actions than a simple desire to learn her identity.

I heard footsteps moving down the hall, a quick tread that I had known since I was a child, and I wondered what could have drawn her away from Thrushcross Grange at such an ungodly hour. Nelly was very fond of my niece, and I couldn't imagine any reason why she would leave the child's side, unless an emergency had arisen and there had been no one near who could be fetched in time, save for me.

My heart was tripping along at a painful pace when Nelly stepped in the room, and I studied her face very carefully, alert for any sign that would tell me that Cathy was in danger, but there was no sign of anxiety or grief to be seen. There was a fair amount of anger, I'd had plenty of excuses through the years to observe that particular emotion on her face, so I recognized it right away, and wondered what could have happened, or, rather, _who_ had done _what_ to _whom_.

It would seem that my curiosity would not be put to rest anytime soon, because though my presence in this room was clearly befuddling to Nelly, it was the woman sleeping in the bed who caught her attention, and she looked at her, then at me, and back to the softly snoring woman once more, and her eyes, which had been filled with confusion, sharpened as they landed upon me, and told me that she was completely shocked by my scandalous behavior.

"Heathcliff, who is that woman?" she whispered, a furious hiss, one born from remembered anger, further intensified and righteous indignation. "What on earth have you done now?"

My own temper sparked to life in an instant, and I hastened to control my impulse to snap back at her. I wanted to remind her that I was a grown man, to bring to her attention that I was the lord and master of my own home, and as such, I did not have to account for my actions to anyone. I might have also informed her that it was terribly presumptuous of her, to draw the conclusion that I had done something that was wicked and immoral in nature to the woman in my guest bed, given that I wasn't a notorious seducer of innocent young females, but I kept both of those thoughts to myself, out of respect for the woman who'd helped to raise me.

"I can't tell you who she is, because I do not know," I said quietly, curling my fingers against the book that I held in my hands, in a further bid to keep my tendency toward anger in check. "I was heading home, from town, and came upon her, wandering aimlessly, along the moors. I suppose that I could have left her out there, in the cold and the rain, but I chose to rescue her instead. It would have been nice, I suppose, not to mention helpful, if she had given me her name before she lost consciousness, but I'm afraid that her manners escaped her, just as mine fled me, given the circumstances of our encounter with one another, and….."

"I'm sorry that I upset you, Heathcliff," she said, in a tone that was soft and soothing, the sort that she'd used many times when I was a child, and from time to time when I was older as well, more often than not because of something that Hindley had said or done. "It was wrong of me to presume that you'd done something that was disgraceful. I was just taken by surprise, that's all."

I took a deep breath and relaxed my hold on the book, which was fortunate, for the tome, that is, because I'd been mere moments away from tearing the blasted thing in two. "I suppose that old habits die hard, do they not?" I asked, smiling fondly when I recalled a few of the choicer scrapes that had earned me a stinging reprimand from Nelly's hand. "I would imagine that overseeing Cathy's development into a young woman has been filled with bliss and ease, especially in comparison with me…or her mother, for that matter."

There was a flicker of emotion that flitted across her face for just a moment, something had disturbed her and angered her, and then it was gone, and she walked over to the bed, to study the mystery woman who continued to sleep peacefully, as if she didn't have a care in the world beyond that which existed while she slumbered. Nelly reached out her hand, and smoothed back a strand of hair from the other woman's face, studying her closely, while I waited, and hoped, for a spark of recognition to show itself in her eyes, but there was none to be found.

"There is one other family who lives close by, the Abbott's, of Lyndon Heath. Their daughter, Anne, is of the same age as this woman, but she's fair, of hair, and complexion, so this cannot be her, but where else could she have come from…and, pray tell, why isn't she wearing any clothing?"

Had Nelly suddenly lost her sight? I hadn't unclothed the woman completely, I knew myself well enough to realize that doing so would have invited me to not only look, but to touch as well, and though I could have been called many things that were uncomplimentary, to say the very least, I wasn't a man given to molesting unconscious women. I suppose that one might point out that my looking at her as I disrobed her was just as iniquitous an action as touching her would have been, but I begged to differ. I was a man with a healthy appetite where the female form was concerned, and it had been a long while since I had sated that hunger, so how could I be expected to keep my eyes to myself? And yes, I had no right whatsoever to look at her the way that I had, but what man wouldn't have done the same in my place? Furthermore, why did I…why did I…bloody hell…why did I feel so damned guilty, if I hadn't done anything wrong?

"She was soaked through to her skin, and I ought to have removed every stitch of clothing from her body, to ensure that she wouldn't catch cold, but I bowed to what I knew to be _proper_ instead and took her down only to her chemise and her drawers. I know that I've never been one who rested in your good graces, Nelly, but surely you know me well enough to recognize that I am not the sort of man who would take advantage of an innocent woman, especially one who has been thoroughly traumatized already, and, on top of all of that, is unconscious and completely unaware of her surroundings, don't you?"

She had the decency to look ashamed for doubting my intentions, and I had enough integrity to feel guilty when I saw that she was sorry, because part of what I'd said in my own defense had been a lie. It was true that I'd worried about leaving any of her clothing in place, because I was afraid that she might become sick, but I had left her chemise and drawers as they were, though I had still pondered things that I had no business thinking about when I took in her shape and the softness of the curves that covered her all over, so I had taken advantage of her somewhat, hadn't I?

"I've always known the man that you would be, Heathcliff," Nelly said softly, pulling a chair across the room, so that she could sit beside me in front of the fire. "I saw everything that there to know about you, that day that Mr. Earnshaw brought you here to live, and I wasn't wrong about you either…that is why I came to see you tonight, in the hope that you would consent to help me, to help Cathy, before it is too late."

Mariam's POV

I was very accomplished in the art of pretending to sleep; you might even say that I was proficient in the craft of eluding the presence of others through feigned slumber. It was something that had started when I was much younger, during our holidays at Lyndon Heath, when I learned that Anne would talk endlessly at bedtime, hour after hour, of who she was going to marry when she came of age. She always said that I was too ugly to catch the attention of an eligible, desirable man, so she suggested that I become a governess instead, given that I always had my nose stuck in a book. All in all, it had been a thoroughly vexing way to spend my summer evenings, hence I had discovered that it was best to feign sleep when she was around, and it was something that I continued to do, even though the imminent danger of my childhood had passed.

I had slept for a little while, a small amount of time had passed where I wasn't merely pretending, but I suppose that such a thing was inevitable, wasn't it, given that I had swooned like some vacuous ingénue in one of those gothic romances that Anne was just mad about. I hadn't wanted to sleep, and I certainly hadn't wanted to lose consciousness, but, alas, my opinion had not been sought in either manner, and I could only imagine what my savior must have been thinking of me, though, I suppose, his opinion had probably been rather low already, given my apparent penchant to wander about after dark, in a storm, as if I didn't have a whit of sense at all.

His voice was very nice when he wasn't snarling and shouting, and it was that melodious tone that brought me out of dreamland, but I was careful to pretend that I was merely shifting in my sleep, so that he wouldn't know that I was awake. He was reading aloud to me from _Faerie Queene_, a poem that I recognized from my childhood, when Mama would read a bedtime story to me, but she had never sounded the way that _he_ did, she had never garnered my attention so completely, she hadn't ever…..

Oh, why was he stopping? I didn't want him to stop, I wanted him to continue to beguile me with the euphonious timbre of his voice, the one that made me forget that he was boorish and officious and tyrannical. I could easily place him in the role as my brave savior, when I was listening to his voice, I could imagine that he was kind and chivalrous, that he was handsome and gallant…dear me…perhaps it was best that he'd ceased reading to me, if this was the sort of response that he raised in me, wasn't it?

There was another presence in the room; one that I soon learned was a female. She didn't offer a greeting, but launched instead into a tone that was both familiar and chastising in nature, and demanded to know who I was. I was distracted to begin with, because she'd said his name, Heathcliff, and I'd turned that tidbit of knowledge 'round and 'round in my head, until it dawned on me that this woman might have been someone who had already laid claim to my rescuer, one who, unlike me, had every right to feel flustered around him, and who might very well take it upon herself to throw me out of her home. Perhaps I ought to open my eyes and assure her that I wasn't a paramour of this Heathcliff fellow, I would explain the situation, before things got out of hand, but he started to speak before I could reveal myself.

He explained things just as they'd happened, and I was pleased to learn that he was honest about that at least. There was a hint of anger in his voice, adding a growl of sorts that stirred me more than I liked to admit. Perhaps my mind had been addled from the shock that I'd been through that evening, at least, that was what I would have liked to believe had happened to me, but unfortunately I knew better. I hadn't received any injury at all, especially not a wound to my head, and that meant that this new reaction to his voice was further verification that I was allowing myself to behave like a featherbrained twit, and that was a realization that infuriated me.

The woman apologized to Heathcliff, and further conversation revealed that she was, or, rather, she had been, his caretaker at some point, and a feeling of profound relief took hold of me. I tried to tell myself that it was due to the fact that I was going to be spared the unpleasantness of having to apologize to the woman whom I'd assumed was his wife, for inconveniencing her and intruding on her home, but I knew that wasn't the real reason that I felt the way that I did. The truth was too embarrassing and disturbing for me to confront, so I ignored it as best as I could, and put all of my efforts into eavesdropping instead. She knew of my family, and she mentioned Anne, and determined that I couldn't be her, and I was busily running through all of the reasons in my mind why I was grateful that I _wasn't_ my cousin, but was distracted by a query that the strange woman had directed at Heathcliff…the one that had to do with my apparent lack of clothing.

I froze for a moment, unable, even, to breathe, and then I slowly moved against the mattress, careful to keep the motion as quiet and imperceptible as I possibly could. Thank heavens…I wasn't naked, but I wasn't exactly dressed either, was I? He'd left me in my chemise and my drawers, both of which felt rather damp against my skin, but that was little consolation to me, because he'd obviously removed all of my other clothing. This man, Heathcliff, this faceless stranger, had undressed me, he'd looked upon my body in my unmentionables, and then he'd placed me, after he'd undoubtedly carried me in his arms, in this bed and had tucked me in beneath the covers…oh, lud…why did I feel so warm all of the sudden?

He defended his actions, and declared that he ought to have stripped me completely, in order to ensure that I wouldn't catch cold, and I thought to myself that he needn't have bothered, given the flush of heat that was suffusing my entire body. He went on to point out that he wasn't one who was in the habit of taking advantage of innocent and traumatized females, particularly ones who were unconscious, which definitely raised his esteem in my book.

The conversation between Heathcliff, and this woman, Nelly, then turned to the reason for her visit, and I realized that I was not the only one who viewed him as one who rode to the rescue of a damsel in distress, a point of fact that I, myself, was loathe to admit, but there was no denying the truth, no matter how irritating it might be, was there? I recognized the name of the man that she worked for, Edgar Linton, of Thrushcross Grange, because he and his sister, Isabella, had been guests at the home of my aunt and uncle when they were younger. He'd become somewhat of a recluse after his beloved wife had died, so it had been years since I'd seen him, but it seemed impossible that the amiable young man of my acquaintance would ever allow a new employee of his to dominate and belittle one who'd been so dear to his wife, especially at the expense of his child, but what did I know?

They continued to talk and it dawned on me that their conversation was none of my business, and it would be best for me not to listen any further. I suppose that I ought to have come to that conclusion long before I did, but I justified the fact that I'd been listening all along because I was mentioned from time to time. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, to focus on something other than their voices, especially when his was so appealing to me, but I managed to concentrate my attention on the memories of my visit to Lyndon Heath thus far, as a matter of fact, I ignored them so completely that I didn't hear her leave, and I wasn't even aware that he and I were alone with one another once more, until he started to read to me again.

" 'For whatsoever from one place doth fall, is with the Tide unto another brought, for there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.'"

_I could listen to his voice for hours on end and never tire of hearing it_, I thought to myself, and patiently waited for him to continue beguiling me, but he was suddenly silent, and I started to panic just a little, because I feared that he meant to leave me alone at that spot, unfulfilled, when I would have been content to have him read to me all night. It really was disturbing to me, the route that my mind was taking, and I started to wonder if the sensation of lying nearly naked in the presence of a man that I didn't know was beginning to affect my senses. Maybe I was taking a turn toward that which was wanton in nature, all because of his voice, which had heightened my awareness of him, paired with the warmth and the tingling sensations that he brought to life in me, and all of those things, paired with my state of undress, had led to thoughts and behavior which were thoroughly…..

He was getting up from his chair; I could hear it creak as he rose to his feet. I waited for him to take his leave, but it would seem that he had something else in mind, something that involved him crossing the floor, to stand beside the bed. I held my breath, and my heart was hammering in my chest, as the seconds ticked by in silence, and then he spoke to me, and I inhaled sharply at the sound, so near to me, and felt a blush blossoming on my face when I heard the humor that was in his voice.

"You are very skilled at feigning sleep, miss, I will give you that, but don't you think that it's time that you opened your eyes and told me your name?"

Blast, how on earth had he known that I wasn't truly asleep, and, for that matter, how long had he been aware that I was pretending? He wasn't supposed to be able to see through my ruse, dash it all, because I was gifted, I was proficient in the art of simulating convincing slumberous behavior, I had fooled quite a few people…well…I'd mostly fooled Anne, but still…..

"Come now, there's no need for you to continue with this charade," he said, rudely interrupting my inner tirade. "I am very tired, I've had a long day, and I would like to retire, but before I do, I want the name of the woman who is sleeping in my guestroom. That's not too much for me to ask, not after I took it upon myself to save your life, wouldn't you agree?"

I didn't particularly care for the tone of his voice, the one that was overbearing and churlish and exasperated in nature. That reminded me of the way that he'd roared at me out on the moors, which in turn brought to mind the way that he'd felt pressed up tight against me, and the way that his arms had cuddled me close. Hmm, that was a recollection that wasn't unpleasant at all, but it wasn't one that I ought to encourage either, lest I…..

"Damn it, woman, are you going to open your eyes and tell me your name, or am I going to have to resort to means of encouragement that are far less courteous in nature to convince you to cooperate with me!?"

How _dare_ he speak to me that way! Who was he, to threaten me? My temper roared to life within me, and I opened my eyes, so that I might tell him _exactly_ who I was and what I thought of him, but the sight of him, looming over me, made me forget what I was going to say. I hesitated to describe any man as beautiful, given the feminine connotations of that descriptive, but that was exactly what he was, so much so that I forgot how to speak for several moments, and when I regained my ability, all that I could do was stammer nonsensically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you," he said, centering his focus more firmly on me, which made my stomach turn over in a way that I'd never experienced before. Truth be told, I'd never felt any of the things that he brought to life within me, and I wondered if it was yet another sign of a wanton character, that I was reacting to him the way that I was.

"Your eyes are a lovely shade of green," I said stupidly, then gasped in horror, and fought the urge to cover my mouth with my hands. Gracious, where had that come from, and why did I feel the need to say it aloud? I could see that my words had surprised him, that much was evident in those lovely green eyes of his, but I'd pleased him as well, and that, in turn, made me happy, which also made me mad.

"And yours are a lovely shade of brown," he answered, smiling ever so slightly, which drew my gaze to his mouth, which was positively sumptuous. "But that doesn't tell me who you are. I don't think that it's fair that you know my name, and I don't know yours, wouldn't you agree?"

"Your lips look very soft," I whispered, then blushed brighter and pulled the covers up over my head, so that I could hide from him. Why did he have to smile at me? Why couldn't he snarl or rumble, why couldn't he do or say something, _anything_, that would make his mouth less appealing to me? I was making a fool of myself, even more than I already had, that is, and I would have been happy to die, or, at least to disappear from his sight…..

He pulled the covers off of my face, slowly and torturously, revealing me little by little, and the smile on his face had grown even larger. It was paired with eyes that were filled with an obscene amount of conceit, and I waited for it to put me off, I prayed for it to do just that, but wouldn't you know that it didn't. Why did I even bother to hope, hmm?

"I can't say for certain how they feel, I've never had cause to touch them, but I suppose that I could use them to determine if yours are as soft as they look, if you would like, but I really ought to know your name first, wouldn't you agree?"

I ought to have slapped him for his presumption, for having the cheek to speak to me that way, but I didn't want to hit him. It was scandalous, to even contemplate allowing him to kiss me, I barely knew him, and I was fairly certain that I didn't even like him, yet I couldn't help but think that his suggestion made perfect sense, that it was the only thing that did, to tell the truth…..

"Mariam Bennett," I whispered, and held my breath afterward, digging my fingernails into the bedding as he bent his head toward me, slowly, torturously, hovering his lips right over mine, so that I could feel the warm rush of his breath…as it moved off of my mouth, and brushed briefly over my cheek, to my forehead, which was where he chose to kiss me.

*The lines of verse in this chapter are taken from _Faerie Queene_, which was written by Edmund Spenser. I've also decided that the clothing style for my characters will be those found that were prevalent in the Regency Period, even though it's a little too early for them, because that is my favorite period*


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Mariam's POV

I had never known what it was like to be the center of attention, if the truth were to be told, I was something of a wallflower, though it certainly was not a status that I had chosen for myself. That was why it came as such a surprise to me, a shock, really, to suddenly find myself immersed in a throng of handsome and eligible young men, all of whom seemed to be fascinated with me for some reason. Who would have ever thought such a thing was possible? I hadn't, and Anne certainly would have never believed she'd be the one who was overlooked, hence her sour expression and hostile mood, but I wasn't about to let her ruin this moment for me. I was going to relish every second, I was going to revel in it, I was going to…..

There was someone standing just beyond the multitude of marriage minded men, someone who was hidden in the shadows, watching me, and the bevy of burgeoning beaux who were all clamoring for my attention. I could tell that the mysterious watcher was a man, one who possessed a fine figure, and stood straight and proud. He was not as tall as some of the other gentlemen in the room, yet he seemed to dwarf them none the less, and I found that I was fascinated by him, that I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and I slowly started toward him, determined to learn his identity.

My would-be suitors were not pleased with this sudden shift of attention, and they attempted to charm me further, to beguile me, in the hope that I would stay where I was, but I paid them no mind. The strange man beckoned me, like the song of a siren would lure a sailor, and I glided across the floor, unknowing and uncaring of anyone else. Somehow I knew that I was fated to meet him, to look upon his face and offer him my hand, so that he might bow over it, hovering his lips above my knuckles, while I offered him a ladylike curtsey in return. He was the one that I was waiting for, he was my knight, my savior, my…..

Oh, heavens, it was _him_. He had waited until I was just a couple of steps away from him, and then he stepped out of the shadows, so that the light in the ballroom shone upon his face, and smiled at me with those lips that were so beautiful, and so very, very soft. Of course, I couldn't say with any certainty how silken they were when they were pressed against my lips, because he'd chosen to kiss me on my forehead, but I _could_ say, with absolute certainty, that they'd felt positively divine…..

"Would you kindly get your head out of the clouds!" I hissed softly, remembering, a moment too late, that I'd meant to chasten myself in my head, as opposed to speaking the words aloud. His smile grew, seemingly in time with the blush that I could feel moving across my cheeks, and his eyes, which were the loveliest shade of green, were positively sparkling at me. "Oh, lud, I said that out loud, didn't I?"

I don't know why I bothered with that query, given that we both knew the answer. I suppose that I might have done so in a desperate attempt to find something, anything, to say that would lessen my humiliation somewhat, but if that was the case, why on earth had I uttered a question which had an obvious answer, thus furthering the suggestion that I was dimwitted and socially awkward? I had been doing so well, I'd finally managed to find my niche, but all of that had changed, because of him, and his tendency to make me forget myself whenever he was near.

"Don't worry, Miss Bennett," he said softly, moving toward me, slowly raising his hand, to brush an errant curl off of my forehead. "I promise that I won't say a word to anyone…that is, I won't, if you're willing to do something for me in return."

I ought to have responded with a reminder that his suggestion was improper, and that it was ill-mannered, to say the very least, to expect recompense for a favor, and to voice your desire for such aloud was completely beyond the pale, but he was looking at me…and he was smiling at me…and he was touching me…and my mind seemed to be made of mush…..

"Of course," I murmured, devoid of any concerns for paltry matters such as decorum, or appearances, or self-respect. "What would you ask of me, Heathcliff?"

He leaned closer to me, so near that I could feel the warmth of his breath caressing my face. His hand, which was lingering on my hair, moved to my cheek, cradling me, caressing me, with his calloused flesh. Oh, heavens. He was going to kiss me, not on my forehead, but on my lips. He was truly going to touch his mouth to mine, and then I would know, without a doubt, how soft his lips were…..

"Wake up, Miss Bennett," he said, moving his hands to my shoulders, to vigorously shake me back and forth. "It's well after ten, you've had plenty of sleep, and it's past time that you went home, wouldn't you agree?"

The world where I'd found so much pleasure disappeared as my eyes flew open and met a gaze that was beautifully green and filled with a smidgen of irritation. The events of the night before came back to assail my senses, and my face seemed to catch fire when I remembered that he'd rescued me, after which I lost consciousness, only to awaken, nearly naked, in a bed which was unfamiliar to me. Then he'd kissed my brow, and bid me goodnight, leaving me, to retire to his own chamber, and I'd lain awake for at least an hour afterward, shamelessly wishing that he'd stayed with me instead, not in the bed, of course, but beside it, in a chair, while he held my hand and watched me until I went to sleep…..

"It's not even noon yet," I protested, yanking the bedclothes up to my chin, under the guise that I was shielding myself from his eyes, when the truth of the matter was that I did so to ensure that he wouldn't witness the shameful proof of the effect that he had on me. "I never rise before midday, if I can help it. What sort of daft person would choose to be out of bed at such an ungodly hour?"

My meaning of my words could have easily been mistaken as those that were supercilious in nature, and I regretted them as soon as they left my mouth. It was obvious that he was an early riser, as were each and every servant that kept a household running, and to categorize him, or any of the others, as daft was not only mean-spirited, it was also completely false. I was ashamed of myself, and I would have been happy to apologize, but he immediately took offense, and launched into a blistering reprimand before I could say another word.

"Perhaps you are accustomed to a luxurious way of life, the sort that allows you to lie about, bone-idle and bothersome, while those who are not quite as fortunate in their circumstances toil around you, seeing to your every wish and whim, but not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths, Miss Bennett. Some of us were born into hardship, and we actually had to work and suffer for what we have, and it is insulting to assume that we rise every day at a decent hour because we are too _daft_ to know that we could be sleeping the day away instead, when the truth of the matter is that you would actually have to stoop to employing your own limbs to see to your needs, if those who rise before the sun were to decide to behave the way that you do. That wouldn't suit you at all, would it, Miss Bennett? Perhaps you ought to employ your brain before you free your tongue, lest it be assumed that it is _you_ who is the daft one!"

I was unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, and as such I immediately felt tears building in my eyes, and that brought my own temper roaring to life. He frightened me, with the menace and anger in his tone, and he shamed me, because a good deal of what he'd said was true, though there had been several inaccurate assumptions as well. I loathed females who cried at the drop of a hat, in the hopes of swaying a man to their point of view, and it infuriated me further, to know that he would presume that I was tearing up because I meant to manipulate him, as opposed to me doing so because he was terrible and terrifying when he showed the fury of his temper, and because he'd slighted me and bellowed at me as if I was a disobedient hound, and…..

"Blast and damn," he muttered, as one lone teardrop rolled down my cheek, followed closely by another, and then, to my shame, by a third. He turned abruptly on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him, and once more I was left choking on my words. I dried my cheeks and carefully filed them away, one by one, into my memory, to use later, once the time was right. It wasn't the wisest course of action, and it was terribly childish as well, but it couldn't be helped. I was going to have my say, I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him…and then I was going to run for my life.

Heathcliff's POV

I'd behaved like an ass, like a boor. I'd thundered at her, I'd slighted her, and, worst of all, I had made her cry, and now I felt like a lout, lower than a snake, and I wanted to apologize to her, but I didn't know how to begin. I paced the floor in the hall, retracing my steps time and time again, but nothing came to my mind. The truth of the matter was that I'd never been all that accomplished when it came to interacting with the fairer sex, save for the sort of connections which required the exchange of coin at the commencement of said association, and therefore I had no clue at all about how I should right the wrong that I'd done to Miss Bennett.

Catherine would have known what I ought to say, she would have helped me to find the words, after she'd thoroughly scolded me, of course, but she was not here with me, she would never be here with me again. I had tried to behave the way that she would have wanted me to after she was gone, I didn't want her to think that all of her efforts had been for naught, but I couldn't pretend forever. It had been easy to act the part when she was there, because I had someone who not only expected certain things from me, but who made it her mission to help me to live up to my full potential. Catherine had loved me too much to see me behave like a heathen, but now she was gone, and there was an empty hole in my heart that had never healed, and my tendencies toward cruelty were never far from my mind…..

"I thought that the lady was going to eat with us," Hareton said, bringing me out of my self-loathing with a start, which might have fueled my temper back to life, had I allowed it to, but I didn't, because I was determined to control myself. "Wasn't she hungry, Uncle?"

It was a blessing that Hareton didn't remind me in any way of his father, because I had loathed Hindley with an intensity that had threatened, at one time, to consume me. Granted, I hadn't been particularly fond of his wife, Frances, either, I certainly hadn't shed a tear when she passed from this world, but seeing her presence in her son was definitely preferable to the alternative. If the truth were to be known, Hareton resembled Catherine more than he did either of his parents, and I suppose that was why I'd been willing to see to his care, after his father had drank himself to death, and, in time, he'd become more of a son to me than a nephew, even if he would never truly be either of those.

"I'm sure that Miss Bennett will be happy to join us for luncheon, once she has finished her ablutions, Hareton," I replied, purposefully refraining from mentioning anything about the spectacle that had played out between me and our guest. "She is undoubtedly famished, I would imagine, and Cook was so thrilled with the prospect of showing off her talents for a guest. I would be willing to wager that she has prepared enough food to nourish an entire regiment of soldiers….."

"The lady left already," Hareton interrupted, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, toward the front door. "She came running down the stairs a half an hour ago, and asked me how far it was to Lyndon Heath. I told her that it was a fair piece, especially if she was planning on walking, and that she'd be better off waiting on you to take her back, but that didn't seem to suit her at all. She thanked me for my assistance and took off on foot. It looked to me like she'd been crying, and crying hard, Uncle. What do you suppose could have happened that would have upset her so much?"

I had a good notion that Hareton knew _exactly_ what had happened to send Miss Bennett into a torrential outpouring of tears. He'd certainly seen my temper from time to time; there had even been occasions when he'd been the reason for my anger, so he was no stranger to my tendency to decimate the emotions of others with the ferocity of my fury. It wasn't his way to come right out and place the blame on me, even in times like these, when I needed someone to chasten me, and that was good, because it wasn't his place to do so, but his roundabout way of reminding me of my shortcomings was just as effective at making me feel like a churlish bully.

"Tell Cook that I will need a knapsack of sandwiches and a flask of water," I replied, striding toward the front door with my hands curled into fists at my sides. "Also, remind her not to sulk…the culinary delights that she concocted for our guest will keep quite well, and we will sup on them tonight."

He started to question me further, and I turned abruptly on my heel, to glare at him, until he decided that it was best that he rush to do my bidding, without further question or comment, and I continued on my way to the stable, soundly slamming the front door, in a futile bid to assuage my growing temper. It would not do at all, to find Miss Bennett in the state that I was in, not if I was hoping to sway her to forgive me for behaving like a brute…I just wished that she wasn't so damned determined to bring that side of me to life.

* * *

Bastion was not pleased with me at all, he made that clear by pulling against the reins a bit harder than he normally would have, and his gallop wasn't as smooth as I would have liked it to be. I couldn't say that I blamed him; I would have preferred the warmth and comfort of a stall in the barn, if I was him, out of the cold and the drizzling rain, as well, but I couldn't allow Miss Bennett to attempt to find her way back on foot, on her own, in this sort of weather.

Granted, she was an exasperating woman, but I had taken on the responsibility for her safety last night, whether I liked it or not. Therefore, it was my duty to ensure that she was kept from harm, whether she liked it or not. I also had to acknowledge the fact that the notion that some calamity might befall her bothered me, truth be told, it frightened me a little, and that was something that I could _not_ like, even though I knew that there was no way that I could control my emotions.

She'd managed to make a fair distance, and was striding purposefully toward Lyndon Heath. I still wasn't certain who she was to the Abbott's, I knew that she wasn't a servant, nor was she their daughter, and it seemed that I might never know, not unless I could convince her to allow me to come to her rescue a second time. I'd never been a man who was renowned for his abilities to charm the ladies, so I was unaccustomed with the practice of employing the arts of flattery and enchantment, but I was going to have to do my best none the less, if I hoped to convince her to forgive me.

I kept Bastion reined in as best as I could, but the blasted beast insisted on thundering across the moors, in spite of my efforts, and we reached Mariam quickly. I knew that she heard us coming, I was willing to wager that she felt us as well, given the way that Bastion was pounding the ground as he galloped, pell-mell, across the rain soaked heath, but she paid us no mind at all. She continued to march along, obstinately refusing to look at me, not even when I moved beside her and forced my mount to slow to a walk.

I sighed, long and loud, and urged Bastion ahead, so that I could gain some distance on her, and then I brought him 'round, stopping right in front of her. I had done so with the full knowledge that my actions would make her even angrier than she already was, but I would have thought that she would see that it was in her best interest to stop in her tracks, and allow me to rescue her, so imagine my surprise when she chose to sidestep instead, and continue her stride, without so much as a word, or even a glance.

"Damn and blast," I growled, bringing Bastion around, to move ahead of her once more. My hardheaded horse was growing tired of my maneuvering, and thought that it would be acceptable to attempt to break into a run, but I dissuaded him with a sharp tug on the reins and a shout of his name, along with whispered curses and promises that he'd go without sugar cubes for a fortnight, if he continued to test my patience. That was all that it took to alter his behavior, but Miss Bennett continued to be tenacious, and attempted to sidestep me once more, but, unfortunately for her, I had anticipated that response, and countered by bending in my saddle and plucking her off of the ground, just as I had the night before.

"Take your hands off of me!" she shrieked, thrashing this way and that, damn near kicking Bastion in the head as I hauled her onto my lap. "Let me go this instant, or so help me, I will bring the sky down with the force of my screams!"

It wasn't very difficult to subdue her, and it wasn't long before I was holding her tight in my arms, calming her flailing limbs before she could strike my mount, which would have served as sufficient incitement to send him into a frenzied gallop, and we'd undoubtedly both have been thrown from his back in the process. I wasn't a proponent of manhandling women, even if it was necessary, but this was one of those occasions when I had no other choice, given that our lives could be lost if I didn't.

"That is enough of that foolishness!" I said forcefully, carefully keeping my tone from becoming a shout, which wasn't easy, given the provocation. "I understand why you are angry with me, Miss Bennett, you have every right to feel the way that you do, but if you continue to screech and thrash and make a damned spectacle of yourself, you're going to upset Bastion, so much so that he'd be well within his rights to toss us to the ground! Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not content with the notion of falling to my death, Miss Bennett, so would you kindly cease and desist this nonsense, please?"

I could tell that she wanted to continue her caterwauling, and her kicking and flailing as well, but in the end the modicum of common sense that she possessed won the battle against her temper for domination over her actions and she slowly grew still, and very quiet, in my arms. She finally deigned to meet my gaze, and the malevolence that I could see glaring back at me might have intimidated me, had I not been able to discern the pain that lay beneath the supposed hatred, and I knew that her heart wasn't fully invested in loathing me.

"I'm sorry that I behaved so abominably when I awakened you," I said, carefully plotting out each what I would say in advance, to lessen the chance that my words would come across as ones which were maladroit and insincere in nature. "I shouldn't have been so quick to take offense at your words, which I knew were unintentionally offensive, yet I refused to allow you to offer your apology to me, even though it was obvious that you wished to make amends for upsetting me. I behaved like a brute, and what I said, and the way in which I chose to say it, was reprehensible, but I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me just the same."

Well, I thought that I'd done rather well, that I'd offered heartfelt words of contrition which would surely encourage her to gratefully accept them, and vow that she would, indeed, absolve me in full, but it seemed that I had overestimated myself. She continued to look at me with eyes that were aglow with righteous indignation, slowly raising one eyebrow, a motion which made me a little nervous, for some odd reason.

"No, I don't believe I will," she said, very matter-of-factly, turning away from me, to stare into the distance, toward Lyndon Heath, giving me the cut direct with the sort of skill that one such as myself normally witnessed from the supercilious lot more commonly referred to as the _ton_. "You may save your repentance for someone else, Mr. Heathcliff, because I am quite determined that I will never forgive you…nor will I ever make mention of your lips again, nor your eyes, because I refuse to behave like a fool any longer."

I might have laughed at her, because it was obvious that she was fighting tooth and nail against the urge to accept my apology, along with the need to comment on the parts of my anatomy which were not repugnant to her, but, alas, I was denied my moment of mirth, because the heavens chose that precise moment to open up and release a deluge upon us, one that made the torrential downpour from the night before seem downright tame in comparison.

Hmm…it would seem that I hadn't been quick enough in quieting her after all, because she'd managed to bring the sky down, just as she'd promised, hadn't she?


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Heathcliff's POV

To say that Bastion was displeased with the current state of affairs was an understatement, to say the very least, but I would have to say that his crossness was paltry when compared with Miss Bennett's. I would have been willing to wager that she would have been pleased to strangle me, had she ever been able to forget the proprieties that had been instilled in her upon her birth and cultivated throughout her life by _polite_ society. Did she truly believe that this was my fault? Why on earth would I want to be caught outdoors in a deluge, when I could have been warm and snug in the comfort of my own home? I knew that I had a reputation as one who was a little unbalanced, but I disliked being cold and wet and miserable just as much as the next person.

"…..We could have been in a carriage, if you hadn't been so determined to frighten me. You behaved like a boor, but you rescued me, and you would have returned me in a carriage, out of the rain and the cold, wouldn't you? Now, because of your quick and unreasonable temper, we're caught in this torrent, and we'll surely catch our deaths….."

"Dammit, woman, would you kindly shut up for a moment, so that I can gather my wits and find a solution to this mess that _you_ have made for us!" I roared, making Bastion rear, nearly unseating both Mariam and myself in the process, and then he tried to bolt, but I reined him in before he could run away with us.

"That _I_ have made!" she cried, her furiously indignant tone muffled somewhat by the downpour, but not enough to drown it altogether, more's the pity. "_You_ were the one who frightened _me_, sir, _you_ were the one who behaved like an insufferable raging lout, and yet _you_ have the _temerity_ to suggest that _I_ am the one who is responsible for….!"

I clamped my hand over her mouth and spurred Bastion into a gallop. There were caves nearby where we could wait out the storm, and though they wouldn't provide the best cover from the weather, they were definitely preferable to another moment spent in the cold and the rain. In spite of Miss Bennett's stinging estimation of my character, no matter how low her opinion of me might have been, in my heart was a protective nature, and I had no desire to see her develop a malady of some sort due to her prolonged exposure to the elements.

I had placed my hand over her mouth to quiet her for a moment, just an instant, until I devised a plan which would benefit both of us, but she took immediate offense to my actions, which oughtn't to have come as a surprise to me. She shrieked beneath the cover of my hand and started to fight me, to struggle in my arms, and it took all of the self-control that I possessed to stay my other hand, when I wanted so badly to reach around and slap it against her backside, as a reprimand for her discourteous, and potentially dangerous, behavior.

"Blast it woman, if you do not cease this asinine behavior immediately, I will be obliged to forget that I am a gentleman once we are out of danger and thoroughly warm your backside for you!" I hissed in her ear, not wanting to distress Bastion any further by raising my voice. "I am not a man who takes pleasure in striking the gentler sex, but I am willing to make an exception for you, Miss Bennett, if you are planning to persist in this quest to get us thrown to our deaths."

She grew very still, and slowly stiffened against me, so much so that she would have slipped out of my arms, had I not been holding her as tightly as I was. The change in her was immediate, and I congratulated myself on my ability to bring her around to my way of thinking, with only a modicum of menacing chicanery…until it dawned on me that she might have been employing a bit of deception of her own, a show of infuriated acquiescence, to lull me into a self-satisfied contentment, so that she might catch me unaware and seek revenge once my guard was down.

I made up my mind, then and there, that I wouldn't allow her to sway me, but it only took me a moment to realize that my determination was for naught, given that she distracted me so easily. I suppose that any man in my place would have reacted to her exactly as I was, given that she was so warm, and soft and curved in all of the right places, but a mind that was preoccupied with lust was hardly beneficial to one who was striving to keep a firm grip on his self-control, and I cursed my mind, along with my single-minded masculine flesh, for straying from the path.

It would seem that I was meant to be tormented, because my cursing had no effect at all on my racing heart, my swift breathing, or my rapidly stiffening manhood. She was angry, furious even, but she was also beguiling and alluring in my arms, and there was something in the heated spark in her eyes that drew me like a moth to a flame. This was the sort of nonsense that plagued a man when he'd gone too long without the soft, warming comfort that laid between a willing woman's thighs, and I decided that I would have to rectify that situation as soon as possible…though a niggling thought entered, and settled, in my mind that told me that I wouldn't want anyone but Mariam, no matter how eager they proved to be.

We finally made it to the caves and I encouraged Bastion into the nearest cavern and gently lowered Miss Bennett down to stand on her feet, wincing and drawing in a hissed breath when her hip almost brushed against my groin, and then I followed her, dismounting as carefully as I could, lest I cause myself more agony than what I was already suffering. It was appalling, that my body would behave in such a fashion, as if I was a young, green lad who'd just felt the first stirrings of lust and it was equally as disturbing, to realize that she held such a sway over me, when I'd only just met her.

"You probably want to sit down and rest," I said, wishing for a supply of dry kindling, so that I might make a fire, but there was nary a scrap of wood to be found in the cave. "I have water and sandwiches, and we may as well have a bit of a repast, given that we will undoubtedly be trapped here for a good long while."

She didn't answer me, she didn't sit down, nor would she rest, it would seem, and I assumed that her refusal to acknowledge me, or my suggestions, was her attempt to punish me for my heavy-handed behavior, but I was in no mood at all to tolerate her sullen temperament. I was soaking wet, I was cold, and I was painfully aroused, and any of those conditions on their own made for a man who was in a foul mood, to say the very least, but when the three were combined, well, let's just say that I wasn't going to put up with her foolishness any longer.

"You aren't hurting me nearly as much as you're harming yourself," I said softly, and strode toward her, hiding a wince as best as I could when I saw her shrink away from me. "You need to sit down and rest, Miss Bennett. You must be thirsty and hungry as well, and there's no need for you to insist on being so stubborn, just because you dislike me, when I'm so determined to help you, is there?"

She had seemed so scared just moments before, so I never would have imagined that she would square her shoulders and slowly stiffen her body, staring back at me with those sparking eyes that perfectly conveyed absolute defiance. She still wouldn't speak, beyond the hostile communications that were so clear in her eyes, and, once more, I reasoned that a good spanking would work wonders for her, though I hesitated to apply my hand to her backside. First of all, I detested men who struck the fairer sex, secondly, I barely knew her, and certainly didn't have any business taking such liberties, and thirdly, and most importantly, I had a notion that I would make my raging libido even more prominent, if I was to touch that part of her that I knew was round and plump and…..

My greatcoat was sopping wet on the outside, but the inner shell remained dry and warm, and I swept it off without a second thought and wrapped it around her body. I started to shiver and shake almost instantly, but it was worth it, to see her snuggle against the voluminous cover of my coat and shudder with delight. I waited for a moment, torn between what I wanted to do and what I ought to do, and then I cast all caution to the wind and wrapped my arms around her, sinking down to the floor of the cave, so that we could both rest ourselves as warmly as possible.

I fully expected her to fight me, to rail at me and abuse me until she'd piqued my temper and made me say and do things that I would regret, but she must have been too concentrated on getting warm to throw a tantrum. I heard her take a deep breath and then she snuggled against me, very slowly, almost hesitantly, and I couldn't help but smile when I felt her arms timidly sliding around me, so that she could cuddle herself against my chest.

"I don't really want to hurt either one of us," she said softly, almost sadly, and I knew that I oughtn't, but I just couldn't stop my hand from rising to her head, nor my fingers, as they twined, very gently, in the hair that had come undone and was draped over her cheek. "And I don't dislike you, Heathcliff. If you want to know the truth, I like you very much…more than I ought to, as a matter of fact."

It was my turn to take a deep breath, which I held, for several moments, and then released in a shuddering exhalation. Her voice was soft, and filled with sleep, and that must have been why she was willing to divulge so much to me, to trust me with knowledge that made her vulnerable, but she didn't need to worry that I would use it against her. I felt the need to protect her, even though I barely knew her, and even though she maddened me, I was helpless to leave her alone, I needed to know that she was safe and sound, for my own peace of mind, and that scared me, it shook me to the core of my being, but I wasn't willing to let her go, even if I knew that doing so was the best course of action.

"I like you too, Mariam," I whispered, moving my hand, which was twined in her hair, to her cheek, trailing my fingertips over her soft and satiny flesh. "Much more than I ought to as well…much more than you will ever know."

Mariam's POV

My parents had not loved one another when they married, theirs was a bond that had kindled, and grown, through the years. Once that spark was awakened they'd longed to expand their family with children, to bring forth offspring whom were made from love, rather than out of duty, but, alas, I was their only child. I knew that they'd catered to me, that they'd spoiled me, by bestowing enough love and attention for six children, at the very least, upon me, but I didn't think that I behaved like a brat at any time in my life…at any time in my life before today, that is.

Mama would be horrified to know that I had acted so abominably, like an ill-mannered shrew, when Heathcliff had been kind enough to rescue me and offer me the comfort of his home. Of course, she had a temper all her own, one that she'd never bothered to keep inside, when Papa made her angry, and she never shied away from speaking her mind either, but that wouldn't matter, because she expected me to behave like a proper lady…I shuddered to think what she would say and do, if she was to learn that I had spent my time in Heathcliff's home in his _bed_, practically naked, while he read to me.

I just hoped that she wouldn't succumb to the vapors, at the very least, if she was to discover the truth, or, even worse, an apoplexy of colossal proportions. If my opinion were to be sought, I would have to say that Papa was the one who'd suffer the fit of anger if he were to know that Heathcliff had stripped me and placed me in his bed. He would rant and threaten and rave, and then he would promptly demand that my honor be restored with an offer of marriage, but none of that fury would be directed at me, because I was his angel, his sweet little girl, while, at the same time, I was the son that he'd never had.

My life would have been drastically different, had Papa been provided with a son, but his lack of male progeny meant that I was taught to shoot, to fish, to ride and to fence, even though Mama had made her disapproval known. He would have sent me to Eton and Oxford as well, had such a thing been allowed, but not everyone shared Papa's enlightened view on all that a woman could be, and as such I'd had a governess instead. I had been instilled with the warring beliefs of a proper lady, as well as a refined gentleman, and I'd always made that combination work…until I'd met Heathcliff, that is. He made me forget my manners, he made me want to fight him, at the same time that I wanted to kiss him, and do all manner of things that were highly improper in nature, to say the very least.

The memories of the past few hours plagued me, they were everywhere that I turned, and I realized that I'd made a fool of myself, and, worse than that, I'd been inexcusably rude to the man who'd probably saved my life. Who knows how long I would have stumbled around in the rain and the cold, if Heathcliff hadn't happened upon me? He'd rescued me, and taken me into his home, even though he had been under no obligation to do so, and how had I repaid him for his kindness? I'd ventured out into the rain once more, stupidly determined to walk home, and God knows what would have happened to me if he hadn't chased after me.

I tried to shake off the remembrances of my behavior, but they refused to leave me, and I wondered how it was possible for me to feel so warm, when it was obvious that my clothing was still soaked through. I ought to have been freezing, my teeth ought to have been chattering, but I was suffused with a comforting coziness instead, one that made me sigh, and move closer to its source…a source that muttered something that might have been a curse, even as it drew me closer in its soothing embrace.

"Blast and damn," I heard someone growl, a voice that seized hold of me, and made me warm in a way that was completely indecent in nature. "I know that you are cold, Miss Bennett, but it would be best, for both of us, if you ceased your wriggling as quickly as possible."

Dear God, Heathcliff was holding me in his arms, which, in itself, was shocking enough, but even more scandalous was the fact that I wasn't inclined to move away from him, even though I knew that I ought to do so. I stopped squirming, just as he'd asked me to, but there was something in his lap that was pressing against my backside that almost encouraged me to take up the movement all over again, so that I might find a more comfortable place to rest, until it dawned on me that the pressure that I sensed was the same one that I'd felt earlier, and, after a moment of reflection, I knew _exactly _what it was that I felt pressed up against me.

My knowledge of such things was very limited, for the most part, because the private parts of one's body were something that was never spoken of in polite society. The only reference that I had was the time that I had seen a stallion mating with a filly, which had provided me with the mechanics of what happened to the male, er, _appendage_,when said male was aroused…which meant that Heathcliff had been stirred by me, though I couldn't understand why he would become that way simply because I'd been sitting on his lap…..

Oh, heavens. He was aroused because he could feel me pressed up against him, even though it was my backside that had been resting on him, and not my…well, you know. I felt like an ignorant fool, I was mortified, and self-conscious, and, for some odd reason, I was also pleased by my newfound discovery, and I felt something, a flicker, a spark, one that initially gathered in my stomach, then moved lower and lower, until it was resting in that forbidden place that was nestled between my thighs.

"I'm terribly sorry," I said, turning to meet his eyes, and growing almost uncomfortably warm from a blush when I saw the look that was there. It was a gaze that was unlike any I'd seen before, and I suppose that it ought to have frightened me with the depths of its intensity, but, surprisingly enough, fear was not one of the emotions that took hold of me as I stared back at him. "You don't have to hold me any longer. I appreciate you keeping me warm, but there's no need for you to continue to do so, now that I am awake."

I expected him to agree with me, and I waited for him to set me aside, but he kept me right where I was instead. "I never said that I wanted you to leave me," he said, tightening his arms on me, before he ran one hand in a slow and soothing caress up and down my arm. "I was just giving you fair warning that it wasn't a good idea for you to wiggle around the way that you were, not if you're expecting me to behave like a gentleman, that is."

I was feeling a little lightheaded and more than a little flighty as well, and that must have been why I had no control over my words, though, in all honesty, I tended to forget myself completely whenever he was near me. That was a ridiculous thing for me to say, given that I barely knew the man, but it was the truth none the less. I was too busy staring into his beautiful green eyes to think before I spoke, I was too preoccupied with the shape of his lips to review my words in advance, though I had a notion that I might sin in haste, but I would definitely repent in leisure, as I added my foolishness to the list of iniquities that humiliated me.

"I do have it in my heart to forgive you," I murmured, remembering his apology earlier, the one that I had thrown back into his face. "How could I ever stay mad at you, when you're just so handsome that you make my heart beat faster, and your voice sends shivers coursing all…..oh, dear."

I ought to have been grateful that he was laughing at me, because that meant that I hadn't offended him, but for some reason I just couldn't find the gumption to be grateful for making a spectacle out of myself…I was too busy trying to find a place to hide, and wondering how in the world I'd manage to do so, if he refused to let me go.

"I'll remind you of that the next time that I infuriate you," he said, biting back a chuckle when he saw that I wasn't nearly as amused as he was. "Just in case you forget…or is this a onetime occurrence, Miss Bennett?"


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Mariam's POV

My father hugged me tightly, so much so that it was difficult for me to breathe, a condition that my mother exacerbated by rushing over to grab me as well, encircling me, and Papa, in her arms, while she fussed and cried and threatened bodily harm if I was ever to dare to scare her so completely ever again. Uncle Phillip and Aunt Eugenia hovered in the background, smiling happily, while my cousin, Anne, glowered at me for all of five seconds, before she took notice of Heathcliff, who'd moved to the corner of the room that my aunt called the Rose Arbor Salon, and then her face changed in an instant, transforming from sullen and sulky to coquettish and coy in the blink of an eye.

I had no business feeling the sudden and overwhelming burst of jealousy that overtook me when I witnessed Anne gazing at Heathcliff as if he was a tasty morsel that I'd brought along solely for her enjoyment, but it seemed that I was fated to behave in the manner of a green-eyed monster none the less. I knew her for who she truly was, but men, as a rule, never noticed the beast that lay beneath the façade of beauty and perfection. They beheld the veneer, and believed it to be the truth, and thought that she was enchanting, that she was an angel, that she was the very personification of feminine splendor…at least, that was most of them believed, until they knew her a little better, though there were some who either simply did not care that she was an awful person, or, more than likely, they were willing to overlook her faults, given that she had a reputation for being very giving with her favors.

I'd never cared about any of the other men who'd fallen, however briefly, under Anne's spell, but this was different, this was someone who'd rescued me, who'd taken care of me, even though I'd railed at him like an ill-mannered fishwife. He'd been my secret, for a short while, he'd been my savior and my guardian…he'd been, quite simply, _mine_, even if only for a short while, and the thought that he might become mesmerized with Anne, that he might _know_ her in every way that a man could know a woman, was simply too much for me to bear.

I'd almost worked myself up into a dither, complete with tears and clenched fists, but then I noticed that Heathcliff's attention was trained solely on me, I saw that his eyes were looking at me, and me alone, so much so that everyone else might as well have been invisible. He hadn't so much as glanced in Anne's direction, even though she kept clearing her throat, and moving closer to his line of sight, and it thrilled me to know that he had no desire at all to pay any attention to her, or to anyone else, for that matter…almost as much as stirred me, in a way that I'd never known before, to realize that _I_ was the center of his attention.

"Maybe now you will listen to me and stay close to the house," Papa said, squeezing me tightly in his arms, once, twice, then a third time, until my breath escaped me in a groan. "I know that I have always encouraged your adventurous side, Mimi, but you are intelligent enough to know better than to wander out of doors at night, especially in a torrential downpour….."

"I think that she _does_ know better, Henry," Mama said, shushing him before he could continue to point out how profoundly dimwitted I was for such a sensible woman. "This is not the time for chiding, nor should you be doing your best to smother the life from your wife and child. What you ought to be doing is thanking Mr. Heathcliff instead, wouldn't you agree, my dear?"

It seemed to amuse Heathcliff, to hear my mother referring to him as _Mr_. Heathcliff, and his eyes were twinkling as they met, and held, my own. There was something else in that gaze, a gamut of emotions and implications that made me shiver in response, though I could not say for certain _why_ it did. He held my eyes, staring at me in a way that was thoroughly, and thrillingly, improper in nature, and it seemed that he was just as entranced by me as I was by him, as a matter of fact he was so immersed in me that it startled him when my father spoke to him.

"I do thank you, sir, for rescuing my daughter and bringing her back to us, safe and sound," he said, releasing me, and my mother, to move forward and offer Heathcliff his hand. "I can only imagine how terrified she must have been; spending a night on the moors, in the cold and the rain, and the first glance of you must have been like an answer to prayer for her."

I had not thought that Heathcliff was an answer to prayer at first glance, truth be told, I thought that he'd been intent on hurting me, but that was because I hadn't seen his face, especially not his eyes. _That_ had been the moment when my feelings toward him had changed, and I'd found myself drawn to him, almost as if I was in awe of him, and I hated to think about the fact that he would leave me, now that he'd delivered me safely to my family. At the same time, it would probably be best that he go as quickly as possible, before Papa discovered that I'd spent the night in a bed in his house, not to mention this day, snuggled close in his arms instead of shivering on the moors.

I wasn't worried about Heathcliff telling my father the truth; he had to have known what the repercussions for such a scandalous admission would be. If I had been an unconnected woman, with no promise of familial protection, there wouldn't be anything for him to worry about, because I would not be in possession of a reputation, at least, I wouldn't as far as the _ton_ was concerned, and he could have done anything that he wanted without the fear of facing the consequences for his actions, but that was not the case with a woman like me. Granted, I was hardly a diamond of the first water, truth be told, I was pretty much on the shelf, but I was respectfully so, and my father would see that I was treated that way, if he were to find out…but he wouldn't, that is, he wouldn't by _my_ mouth.

"It was my pleasure to keep her safe, sir," Heathcliff said, answering my father with his words, and a brief moment of his attention where his eyes were concerned as well, before he returned them to me. "I'm not one who regularly rescues damsels in distress, as a matter of fact, this was my first time to do so, but I believe that I could become accustomed to doing so, should Miss Bennett require my assistance in the future."

He'd skirted the issue of the time I'd spent on the moors quite nicely, avoiding it, while giving the appearance that he was being completely forthcoming. It made my heartbeat skip in its cadence, then surge to life, stronger than before, to imagine him _rescuing_ me, and keeping me _safe_, and I felt an odd warmth filling my body, accompanied by the strangest, and most delicious, tingle that I'd ever felt in my life. I ought to have known to keep those reactions from showing on my face, given that Anne was in the room, but like a fool, I allowed them to be seen, and she pounced before I could remove them from sight.

"Mariam's so sensible, she hasn't got a romantic bone in her body, and I doubt that she would ever allow herself to be in a place where she might require your _assistance_ again, Mr. Heathcliff," she said, placing her rather thin lips in a practiced, sensual moue once she'd finished speaking. It was something that she always did when she was communicating with a male, and I suppose that she believed that it was becoming to behold, and it must have been, given the scores of males who'd fallen at her feet, but I was of the opinion that she looked rather ridiculous…and it seemed that Heathcliff shared my estimation, if the appalled expression on his face was any indication.

"I can see for myself that Miss Bennett is a sensible woman, but that is not a defect in her character, madam, it is a strength, to be sure, one that all ladies should aspire to obtain. And though I cannot speak for the romantic side of her personality, I would imagine that she has the same hopes and dreams that most women possess…ones that do not include wandering about in a torrential downpour on the moors, in the hope that she might be rescued, because her doing so would suggest that she was feebleminded, and I, for one, believe that Miss Bennett is in possession of a superior wit, and a very intelligent mind, if I may be so bold as to say so."

He gave the impression of one who was unaccustomed to speaking in front of large groups, and though the number of those in the room was hardly what I would call substantial, given that there were only seven of us in all, I got the idea that it was a sizeable group as far as he was concerned. It seemed that I was mistaken before, in my belief that I was warm and tingly, because those earlier instances had nothing at all on what I was experiencing at that moment, and I could easily imagine that my eyes were shining happily, and I could feel the smile curving my lips, and the slight blush that tinted my skin, but I was content to leave everything exactly as it was, because then _he_ would know that I was pleased.

"No, Mariam isn't one to confuse romanticism with foolhardiness," Papa agreed, sending a warning glare to Anne, which caused her pout to become even more prominent in nature, though it definitely lacked its seductive air, and therefore gave the impression of a spoiled toddler who was on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum. "Now, Mr. Heathcliff, if you would be so inclined, my brother-in-law and I were just about to retire to the study, to wait for dinner, which ought to be served within the hour, and we would be honored if you would consent to join us, sir, if that would be agreeable to you, of course."

He didn't answer Papa immediately, but raised his eyebrows at me instead, almost as if he was asking for my opinion, which, of course, pleased me immensely. I would have liked for him to stay right where he was, with me, so that we might converse with one another in a normal setting, but it spoke volumes about Papa's opinion of the man who'd saved me, that he wanted to be in his company, and I didn't want to keep them from getting to know one another. I wasn't so silly as to think that Heathcliff was going to fall madly in love with me, and want to marry me someday, but there was never any harm in hoping, was there?

I smiled at him and nodded my agreement, and he immediately turned his attention back to my father. "The honor is all mine, sir," he replied, and followed Papa and Uncle Phillip out of the room, nodding at Aunt Eugenia and my mother as he went, and paying no mind at all to Anne, who was not accustomed to receiving the cut direct, and I felt a wicked glee course through me at the sight of the venomous look that took hold of her face, making her downright hideous to behold.

He did not nod at me, he stopped in front of me instead, and looked into my eyes, and then he took hold of my hand, which I saw was noticeably trembling, and lifted it toward his face. For one breathtaking moment I thought that he meant to be truly bold and touch his lips to the back of my hand, but he stopped short, and hovered instead, which was perfectly acceptable, then smiled at me in a way that set my heart to racing, or, rather, in a way that made it pound faster, because it was already galloping in my chest.

"Miss Bennett," he whispered, then turned to leave the room, stopping for just a moment, before he walked out the door, and turning, almost as if he was doing so to see whether or not I was watching as he left me. I was, of course, and it was obvious that he was pleased, given the way that his eyes darkened and seemed to smile beguilingly at me, moments before he _winked_ at me, of all the scandalous things that he could have chosen to do, leaving me breathless and oddly exhilarated in his wake.

"Hmm," Mama said, one tiny word, more of a sound, really, but one that was filled with so many thoughts and meanings. "I must say that you lucked out being rescued by that gentleman, Mariam. As a matter of fact, I would have to say that it would well be worth the lung fever that one might incur, if they could be held close in that man's arms on the journey back home, wouldn't it, my child?"

Heathcliff's POV

I knew better than to flatter myself with the notion that the grand meal that awaited us in the informal dining hall had been provided for my benefit, but whatever the reason, it was obvious that I was going to eat well. Of course, Cook always provided a succulent meal for Hareton and I, but nothing as lavish as what the Abbott's had requested, and I hoped that I possessed enough of the manners that Cathy had worked so hard to instill in me, to ensure that I wouldn't make a complete spectacle of myself in front of Mariam and her family.

Miss Bennett had changed for dinner, a soft pink gown that paired beautifully with her dark hair and eyes, one which also accentuated her bosom in a way that made me drop my napkin into my lap from time to time throughout the meal, to ensure that no one would take notice of the uprising that was occurring within my trousers. I suppose that I ought to have been ashamed of myself, for behaving like an infatuated adolescent, but strangely enough, I felt no shame at all over my reaction to Mariam.

I'd had my share of experiences with the opposite sex, but those had all taken place after coin had exchanged hands, and I hadn't felt any particular attraction to them beyond that which involved the secret and intimate parts of their bodies. I'd never paid much, if any, attention to the hue of their hair, nor had I taken notice of their eyes, and whether or not they'd sparkled like Mariam's did when she was both happy and angry, though the light was very different with each of those emotions. I suppose that was because I'd avoided the gaze of every woman that I'd lain with, because though I could distance myself from intimacy when our bodies were joined, I could not do so if she were to look into my eyes.

Perhaps that was why I enjoyed locking my gaze with Mariam's. Maybe I had finally reached the point where I was emotionally prepared for that sort of attraction and attachment, maybe I'd grown tired of meaningless encounters, those which sated my lust, but left my heart feelings hollow or maybe I'd finally met the woman who'd been meant for me, the one that I wanted to be my wife…now I would just have to convince her that she was destined to be with me.

There had been a moment during my first meeting with her parents when I'd been tempted to tell them the truth, to reveal that their daughter had slept in her unmentionables in a bed in my home, and that I was the one who'd stripped off her clothes. I knew that her father would demand that I preserve her honor by marrying her, to ensure that there wouldn't be a scandal, especially after I told him that I'd held Mariam in my arms while she slept, but then I'd realized that my doing so would make our union a _necessary_ event, and the last thing that I wanted was to claim her as mine, both in my bed and out of it, because she had been obliged to marry me, to preserve her reputation. I wanted her to writhe beneath me with pleasure when I made love to her for the first time, I wanted her to whimper with need, to stare deep into my eyes when I slid inside her warm, silken…..

Oh, wonderful. I thought that I'd been in a predicament before, but my napkin had proved voluminous enough to hide my condition, or, rather, it _had_, until I decided to imagine Mariam in my bed, with her long, silken and fragrant hair fanned out over my, no, over _our_ pillows. The napkin had concealed my growing desire quite well, until I'd thought of how her breasts would feel, in my hands, to my mouth, and then pressed against my chest. I'd been adequately hidden from view until I'd thought of how she would sound while I made love to her, of how soft and warm and snug she would be, wrapped tightly around me, while I plunged between…..

"Are you feeling alright, Heathcliff?" Mariam asked, bringing me out of my lustful reveries with a start, so much so that for a moment I was unsure what she had asked me, though I didn't miss the fact that she had addressed me as Heathcliff, rather than adding a title to my name, which would have been the proper thing to do, and I was pleased that she chose to address me in a more intimate fashion. "You look a little flushed, like you might have a fever. Are you well, or should I see about procuring a physician for you?"

There were murmurs around the table, as her family whispered about her familiar tone, and the fact that she had felt the need to take control of the situation, instead of deferring to her father or her uncle, as proper society would have expected. I suppose that I ought to have been put off by her show of independence, I should have preferred a woman who was demure and content with her status as a second-class citizen, but for some odd reason, I found her behavior attractive…truth be told, I found it downright arousing.

"I am feeling wonderful, Miss Bennett," I assured her, shifting in my seat when I felt a surge of desire move through me, then hiding a wince when my trousers constricted flesh that was painfully sensitive at that moment. "It is very kind of you to worry for my wellbeing, but I am not ill, so I do not require the services of a physician, though, I must admit, I _am_ feeling a little flushed. It seems a little_ warm_ in here to me…how does it feel to you?"


End file.
